


You Crumble, I Shatter

by Sarahbob



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre is Enjolras' rock, Epic Bromance, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, platonic superhusbands, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:16:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1463926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahbob/pseuds/Sarahbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre wakes up early in the morning feeling miserable and wretched. It's all to clear to him: he is sick. Enjolras doesn't really handle things well and he doesn't care if he's overreacting or not, because frankly, he's terrified. Combeferre is his rock and whenever that rock shows signs of crumbling, Enjolras feels himself shatter right along the way. Modern AU sickfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Crumble, I Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot of a sick Combeferre and a worried, slightly panicked Enjolras with a touch of Joly.

Combeferre wakes up early in the morning feeling miserable and wretched. His nose is stuffy; his throat is sore; there are shivers running up and down his body and he is sure that there's a little man inside his head banging a hammer against his skull. He groans quietly and pulls the blankets tighter around his trembling body. He should have seen it coming; he'd been feeling under the weather for a few days now, but he had hoped it wouldn't push through. But unfortunately, he had no such luck.

He can tell he has a fever; his burning skin in stark contrast to how cold he feels. _Damn it_ , Combeferre thinks sulkily, _why now_? He curls in on himself and reluctantly blinks his eyes open. It's still dark out, but the clock on his nightstand tells him it's already close to seven in the morning, which means his alarm will go off in just a few minutes. Of course there is never a time when being sick is convenient, but this is a very important week for Combeferre. There are a lot of things he has to do – he has several deadlines, he is supposed to work his first nightshift at the hospital, he had promised Enjolras that he'd proofread his thesis, just to name a few – and so, being sick really does not fit his schedule.

He grumbles again and he buries his head in his pillow. _Just a few more minutes and then I'll get up, take some pills and just make it through the day_ , he thinks and he squeezes his eyes shut. When the alarm goes off a few minutes later, he blindly reaches for his vibrating phone and turns it off; not realizing he's forgetting to hit the snooze button. He's back asleep within seconds and only wakes up hours later by the sound of someone gently patting his shoulder and carding a hand through his hair. He knows who it is even before he opens his eyes.

"'Ferre?" a soft voice murmurs, "Combeferre? Are you quite alright? It's nearly ten in the morning…I thought you had to get up at seven? Didn't you have an early shift?"

Combeferre doesn't answer and has difficulty understanding the words that are spoken to him. It is almost as if someone is talking to him from underwater and he has to concentrate very hard on what Enjolras is telling him. He makes some unintelligible noise and tries to hide away further into the warmth of his blankets. He doesn't see the worried frown that appears on his roommate's face nor does he understand why Enjolras tries to wake him up in such a rude manner. He pulls away from his friend, turns on his side and lets out an annoyed groan.

"Combeferre?" Enjolras sounds a lot more concerned now, "Are you ill? Let me feel your forehead, please?" He leans forward on the bed and tries to reach Combeferre's head which is buried under his blanket. When his best friend turns away even further, Enjolras lets out a frustrated huff, pushes himself up from the bed and walks over to the other side. When he finally manages to place his wrist on Combeferre's forehead, he winces at the heat he finds there and he curses quietly. "Damn it, 'Ferre…you're really warm. I-I think you might have a fever."

Combeferre's eyes flutter open long enough so that he can roll them at Enjolras and he huffs incredulously. "You think?" he mumbles irritated and then realizes that his friend really cannot help the fact that he is feeling miserable. He takes a hold of Enjolras' wrist just when his roommate pulls away and squeezes gently. "Sorry, that was uncalled for, I just don't feel good, Enjolras…" His blond friend just looks at him with wide, worried eyes and nods jerkily. He always gets like this when Combeferre is sick and just like the last time, Combeferre can practically see the anxious thoughts running through Enjolras' head. He smiles and tries to sit up a little straighter; pulling the blanket with him. "Don't worry, my friend, it's just a cold. I'll be fine before you know it."

Enjolras' mouth forms a thin line and he frowns again. "Maybe…" he says quietly, "I'll get you some Tylenol and I want to take your temperature. You're not going anywhere today, so you might as well get comfortable and stop worrying about your classes, because you're going to miss them all." He pushes himself up from the mattress, throws Combeferre a stern look and makes his way out of the bedroom before his friend can say anything. He returns in less than a minute with a large glass of water, two pills, a thermometer and a cold cloth.

Combeferre sighes and shakes his head. "Enjolras, you're worrying over nothing. It's just a cold, I've been feeling a bit under the weather for a few days now. I'll take the pills and the water, but then I'm going to get dressed and resume my activities of the day." He tries to sound convincing but his voice is hoarse and cracks in the middle of his sentence. He eyes Enjolras defiantly and hopes his friend doesn't notice the fire that, he is sure, is burning his throat away.

Enjolras raises one eyebrow and just looks at Combeferre; not in the slightest impressed by the way his friend is glaring at him. "Honestly, Combeferre, are you forgetting who you're with? I invented that look." He smiles a little and sits back down on the bed. "I'm going to tell you the exact same thing you always tell me when I'm sick, so listen carefully," Enjolras has to suppress a grin as he puts on Combeferre's glasses and tries to mimic his friend's voice. "You are staying in this bed, or so help me, I will tie you to it. I'll take care of everything, so don't you worry about any obligations you might have. No matter what you think, your health comes first. Now indulge me and just do as I say."

Combeferre scowls at Enjolras - a look that really doesn't fit him and therefore doesn't have any effect at all. "You think you're so funny," the older man huffs and he rolls his eyes again, but does as Enjolras tells him and falls back into the pillows. "Well, you really aren't and your face can't pull those glasses off, so you'd best give them back now."

His blond friend lets out a low chuckle, but does as Combeferre asks and puts the glasses back on the bedside table. He wordlessly hands his friend the two pills and waits until he has swallowed them down with the water. "Now I just need you to take your temperature and then I'll stop bugging you, I promise," Enjolras says as he gives Combeferre the thermometer and unconsciously bites his lip while he waits for the result. His friend looks at him with tired eyes and a small smile and places the thermometer under his tongue.

"38.4," Combeferre mumbles when the beep went off, "Nothing too bad, so please don't work yourself up about this, Enjolras. I'll just go back to sleep for a few hours and I'll be fine soon enough." He gives Enjolras' hand a soft squeeze in the hope to take away his younger friend's concern.

"Yeah...okay," Enjolras sighed, though the worry for his friend didn't leave his eyes. "G-Go back to sleep 'Ferre. I'll call the hospital to tell them you won't be able to make it in today. And I'll check on you in a couple of hours. Call me if you need me okay? I'll be in the living room." He pats Combeferre's shoulder and stands up.

"You have a class in a few hours, Enjolras," Combeferre says quietly, his eyes already drooping.

Enjolras pauses in the doorway and turns around with a smile. "I can afford to miss a few classes. We both know I'm far ahead of schedule. I'll take some time off and relax." He gives Combeferre one more look and then softly closes the door behind him.

Combeferre shakes his head a little and pulls the blankets tighter around himself. "As if you're going to relax," he whispers quietly and a small smile tugs at his lips. He's back asleep within minutes.

* * *

"Yeah, but Joly, he keeps shivering! Even in his sleep...Are you sure I can't just give him another blanket? So that he's more comfortable? I mean, his temperature isn't that high...yet..." Enjolras says, pacing the room with a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. The minute he left Combeferre's bedroom, he had informed Joly of his friend's condition and this was now the third time he had called in five hours.

"No...he told me 38.4, yes...no...he hasn't woken up yet, but that's normal right? When he is sick? Do you wan't me to go in there and jam the thermometer in his mouth? He'll wake up! Yes...y-yes...okay, alright fine, if you think I should...okay, thanks...bye Joly..." Enjolras hangs up the phone and finishes his coffee in one large gulp. Joly had told him to go to Combeferre and check his temperature again, because a lot could have changed in five hours and Combeferre has been shivering more and more as the hours went by. Enjolras had thought of checking his friend's fever a second time himself, but Combeferre had felt so miserable when he was awake that he was reluctant to so.

But now, on Joly's order, Enjolras quietly opens the door to Combeferre's dark bedroom and he switches on the small lamp on the bedside table. Combeferre looked far worse than he had in the morning: his pale face in stark contrast with the firery blushes on his cheeks. Enjolras swallows nervously and carefully sits down on the mattress. "Hey," he whisperes softly as he places one hand on Combeferre's forehead, "'Ferre? Could you wake up for me? Just for a few seconds?"

It takes some shaking and patting, but after a little while Combeferre moans miserably and blinks his eyes open. He peers at Enjolras and shivers more violently when his friend lays a cold cloth on his burning forehead. He knows he's doing worse; he knows his fever must have risen remarkably. He wishes he could make that concerned frown on Enjolras' face disappear. He hates it when his best friend worries about him.

"What time is it?" Combeferre whispers weakly, allowing Enjolras to place the thermometer in his mouth.

"It's past three already, you've slept quite some time, now shush. I need to take your temperature," Enjolras mutters, eyes fixed on the little numbers that are about to appear. He gasps quietly when the beep goes off. "39.2," he reads aloud.

Combeferre swallows and nods. He had figured as much. "Well, it's been more than five hours since you gave me those pills," he croaks, as if it is perfectly normal to have a temperature of more than 39. "I'll take another dose to reduce the fever."

Enjolras looks at him with wide eyes and nods before disappearing into the bathroom. When he returns he has two pills and more cold cloths in one hand and his phone in the other. He sits back down on the bed and places a finger on his lips to tell Combeferre he has to be quiet.

Combeferre frowns a little and blows out a frustrated breath. "Who are you calling, Enjolras?"

Enjolras doesn't answer him and it turns out that he doesn't have to, because the person on the other side of the line just picks up. "Yes, Joly? It's me again. I just checked his temp and it's 39.2...yes...no, I...he seems coherent, although he can barely keep his eyes open...uhm, I'm about to feed him two more Tylenol and maybe I should take away the blanket? Oh okay...yeah, no, if you say that's not necessary, then I won't. Okay...okay, yes, thanks Joly, bye."

Combeferre shouldn't even be surprised. Last time he was sick, Enjolras stalked Joly almost every other hour. But he doesn't like the way Enjolras talks about him as if he's not there and he certainly doesn't like the suggestion of taking his blanket away, so he tightens his grip on the duvet and glares at Enjolras, who hands him the pills.

"You know you can just ask me what to do right? I study medicine too," he mutters annoyed while he swallows the pills, wincing as he does so.

Enjolras ignores him and pushes the glass of water back in his hand when he tried to place it on the bedside table. "You need to drink all the water. I have to keep you hydrated. And then I'm going to make you some crackers, which you have to eat as well." He places another two cold cloths around Combeferre's neck and gives his friend a pointed look; daring him to contradict.

Combeferre shakes his head and sighes. He's really not in the mood for this and so thinks it best to just indulge Enjolras and do as he says. "Alright, if it'll get you off my back. But stop calling Joly for every little thing; I'm awake and - as you so delicately put it - still 'coherent', so just come to me instead. You can call him when I'm either unconscious or an ailing mess."

Enjolras doesn't smile. He just lets out a shaky breath and is about to walk towards the kitchen to make Combeferre something to eat, but then he turns around again. "I'll make you some tea with honey too, if you want? For your throat?"

Combeferre gives him a thankful smile and nods. "That would be nice, thank you."

Enjolras smiles back, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Those are still overflowed with worry. Then he turns around and disappears out of sight.

* * *

The rest of the day, Combeferre doesn't get any worse. The pills keep his fever at a managable level and Enjolras allows himself to relax a little. Even though his hands itch to pick up the phone, he doesn't call Joly, but instead just trusts Combeferre to tell him when he doesn't feel good and what Enjolras is supposed to do about it.

After the tea and crackers - which only Combeferre eats of - The medical student went back to sleep and doesn't wake up until seven in the evening when he is due another round of medicine and a small, light diner. Afterwards, Enjolras allows his friend to get out of bed for a bit and they settle on the couch together to watch some TV. And when his younger friend tells him a couple of hours later that it's time for bed, Combeferre doesn't complain and goes willingly.

It is at night though, that Combeferre's condition turns drastically.

Enjolras doesn't even bother to get into his pajama's and go to bed, because he isn't planning on sleeping when his best friend is sick and in the other room. He wants to be able to keep an eye on him; to be there if things go wrong. He can't afford to go to sleep, at least, that is what he tells himself. As soon as he is sure that Combeferre is out for the count, he sneaks back into his friend's bedroom and settles on the chair by the window with a book. He reads by moonlight until his eyes start to droop and then he gets up to make himself some coffee. As he passes Combeferre, he lightly lays his hand on his friend's forehead and he swallows nervously when he realizes that the warmth he finds there is remarkably higher than it was before Combeferre went to sleep.

Feeling his worry spike again, he slowly continues his way into the kitchen and makes himself an espresso. When he returns to the bedroom Combeferre is tossing and turning and clearly stuck in some sort of bad dream. Enjolras frowns worriedly and quickly goes over to his best friend's side.

"Combeferre, wake up! Come on, 'Ferre, it's just a dream, wake up now, please?" Enjolras says loudly while gently shaking his friend's shoulders. But Combeferre just moans and mumbles incoherently; begging Enjolras to be okay and to come help him.

"Ferre, come on, everything is fine, please just wake up now?" Enjolras calls again, panic slowly rising. But no matter how he tries, Combeferre gives no sign of waking up. He is stuck in his fever dream and Enjolras is starting to freak out. He digs his phone out of his pocket and immediately dials Joly's number. It takes the medical student a few minutes to pick up - it is the middle of the night after all - but when he finally does, Enjolras doesn't give him a chance to ask who it is.

"Joly! Something is wrong with Combeferre...he...I...he's trapped in this nightmare and I can't get him to wake up...I-I think his fever is spiking and I don't know what to do...and I...please come over, Joly? Please? I don't know what to do..." Enjolras knew he was sounding desperate, but he didn'care. He _was_ desperate. He was panicking and he just needed Joly to check on Combeferre right now.

Joly must have heard the desperation in Enjolras' voice, because he sighes tiredly and promises him he'd be there in half an hour. "Just keep trying to wake him up and lower his temperature, alright? Everything will be fine, Enjolras, I promise. He probably caught the flu and if so, it's not all that surprising that his fever spikes at night. I'll be there soon."

As soon as Joly hangs up the phone, Enjolras darts towards the bathroom and return with a slightly wet and cold towel, which he immediately wraps around Combeferre's head. Then he yanks the blankets half-way off of his friend's body and dabs his chest with a washcloth. All the while he pleads for Combeferre to open his eyes; to wake up; to be okay. Enjolras doesn't care if he's overreacting or not; he's terrified. Combeferre is always his solid rock and whenever that rock shows signs of crumbling, Enjolras feels himself shatter right along the way. And that's just the way it is. Enjolras cannot handle seeing Combeferre losing the control over his own body like this.

Enjolras nearly cries from relief when the doorbell finally rings and he all but runs towards the front door to let Joly in. His friend looks at him with concern edged across his face. Enjolras thinks it's concern for Combeferre – which of course, it is too – but Joly is almost just as worried about his blond friend who looks close to breaking down in front of him. Enjolras leads Joly towards Combeferre's bedroom and immediately takes his position on the mattress again; begging his roommate to just wake up already.

Joly sighs and places the small box with medical supplies on the bedside table. "Enjolras, if you want me to check Combeferre over, you're going to have to give me some space. Maybe you could go to the kitchen and make your friend something cool to drink, alright? With some ice-cubes."

Enjolras blinks owlishly at Joly for a few seconds and then nods.

Joly takes the place on the mattress that was just occupied by Enjolras and gently brushes Combeferre's sweat soaked hair back from his forehead. He removes the towel from his friend's head and then places both his hands on Combeferre's trapezius; pressing hard enough for it to hurt and long enough for Combeferre's eyes to snap open. "There you are," Joly mutters quietly while he smiles at his friend and waits for him to fully awaken from his nightmare and focus on the here and now.

"Joly?" Combeferre breathes weakly; closing his eyes again, "That you?"

"Yes, it's me, Enjolras called me; worried out of his mind. Don't speak now please, I need to check your fever; it's spiking." And he gently pushes Combeferre's head to the side, reaches for his own thermometer and carefully presses the tip in his friend's ear. It beeps almost immediately. Joly frowns and purses his lips. The numbers read 40.7 and he really doesn't like that. "Alright, my friend," he mutters as he pulls the blankets away completely and covers his body with the wet towel that Enjolras had wrapped around Combeferre's head earlier, "Time for the more drastic measures, I'm afraid."

He waits until Enjolras returns with a large, cold glass of iced tea – something Combeferre always loves when he's sick – and beckons him over.

"Don't panic," Joly begins and that is really not a good thing to start a conversation with, because the first thing Enjolras does, is, in fact, panic. "I need your help to get Combeferre to the bathroom. He's far too hot and I need to cool his body down."

Enjolras eyes go so wide, it's almost comical had the situation not been this serious. "B-But if it's that bad, shouldn't he need a hospital then?"

"Not yet," Joly says calmly as he maneuvers Combeferre into a sitting position and helps Enjolras position his arms around his best friend before doing the same thing himself. "We'll first cool his body down with a cold shower. If the fever raises this high again, I'll take him in, but I don't think that's going to happen. Now come on, let's get him up."

Together they manage to get Combeferre into the bedroom; undress him till he's clad in his boxers and place him in a sitting position on the shower floor. Enjolras climbs in too and sits down behind his best friend; wrapping slightly shaking arms around Combeferre's trembling body. Joly nods and offers Enjolras a reassuring smile. His poor friend looks close to passing out himself and Joly can almost hear Enjolras' heart hammering in his chest. "Keep a tight hold, Enjolras. He's not going to like this." And with those words he turns on the shower.

Joly didn't exaggerate. For someone who was so weakened by sickness and fever, Combeferre suddenly seemed to think he was in possession of superhuman strength. He fought back with all his might and started to shake even more violently in Enjolras' arms; whimpering, begging and crying when Enjolras refused to loosen his hold. Enjolras was fighting very hard against his own tears that were dangerously close to spilling out of his eyes. After a few minutes, Combeferre had tired himself and he slumped down against Enjolras' chest; closing his eyes and accepting his torture.

"H-He feels cooler, Joly," Enjolras says hesitatingly after a while – now soaking wet himself – as he rests his hand against Combeferre's forehead. "Do you think his temperature has dropped?"

Joly reaches for the thermometer and once again places it in Combeferre's ear. "We'll see," he mumbles with a small frown and then a relieved smile breaks out across his face when he reads the numbers. "It has indeed, 39.5. Which is still high, but we can work with that." And he turns the shower off before helping Enjolras and an exhausted Combeferre out of the shower. Joly hands Enjolras a towel and orders him to wrap himself in it. Then he carefully places Combeferre on the closed toilet seat and starts drying him off; whispering words of encouragement as he does so.

Together, Enjolras and Joly take Combeferre back to the bedroom, where Enjolras – while sending a silent thanks to whoever wants to listen that Combeferre is too much out of it to realize what he's about to do - helps his friend out of his wet boxers, into a new one and then back into his pajama's. As soon as Combeferre is back in his bed, he tries to turn on his side and curl the blankets around him, but Joly stops him. "You can sleep in a moment, 'Ferre. I want to check you over first and that will go quickest if you'll just work with me."

Combeferre lets out a miserable moan, but does as Joly asks him and blinks his eyes back open. Enjolras wraps the towel tighter around himself and sits down in the chair by the window; all the while keeping an anxious look fixed on Combeferre and Joly. He watches how Joly asks Combeferre to open his mouth; how he takes his pulse; how he feels the glands in Combeferre's throat; how he forces the iced tea and a higher dose of medication into his best friend and how he finally orders Combeferre to go to sleep.

"He's got a severe throat infection," Joly explains to him when Combeferre is out for the count, "I've given him a heavier dose of medication which should keep his fever in check and help him rest comfortably for a while. I'll get him his antibiotics first thing in the morning; he should be fine at least until then, but I can spend the rest of the night here if you want me to."

Enjolras lets out a small sigh and nods. "I'd appreciate that, Joly…But only if you don't mind."

"Well, I don't," Joly smiles and he reaches out his hand to pull Enjolras up from the chair. "Now get yourself out of those wet clothes, into something warm and then for Heaven's sake, go to sleep, because you look like you're about to collapse. I don't want to explain to Combeferre that his roommate was so worried about him he's made himself sick."

Enjolras smiles a little. "I'll get changed, but I don't need to sleep, Joly. I've slept plenty the previous nights and I dozed off a few times tonight before Combeferre got worse. I…I just need to be here with him now, okay. To make sure he'll be okay."

"Isn't that what I'm here for?" Joly asks, not in the least convinced by Enjolras' claim that he had slept enough, merely because of the fact that Enjolras _never_ slept enough.

"Well, yeah, but two eyes see more than one and should something go wrong, then at least you're already here. I'll be right back…Do you want something to drink by the way? A coffee maybe?" Enjolras asks as he makes his way out of the bedroom; feeling more than a little shaky when he realizes his knees are buckling.

Joly sighs and shakes his head. He really doesn't feel like dealing with Enjolras' stubbornness and so he thinks it better to just drop the issue for now. "Yes, a coffee would be nice. Now keep quiet or else you'll wake him up again."

* * *

The following morning, Joly leaves early to get Combeferre his antibiotics. Enjolras is still sitting on the chair next to his roommate's bed. He hasn't left the place ever since Combeferre's fever slowly started rising again and he doesn't listen to Joly when the medical student urges him to at least eat the breakfast that he had put on the kitchen counter for him. He just sits there; watching as Combeferre's chest rises and falls and every now and then Enjolras reaches out an arm to feel his best friend's forehead. He has never been so worried about anything in his entire life and ever since he had tried to wake Combeferre up from his nightmare, Enjolras felt an iron fist gripping his heart and it still hadn't let go.

"His temperature is above 39.5 again, Joly," Enjolras says worriedly as soon as he hears a key turning in the lock and footsteps approaching the bedroom. "Do I have to wake him up to give him some more medicine?"

Joly closes his eyes in frustration when he sees the breakfast is still in the exact same place as it was before he left and he feels his respect for Combeferre growing as he realizes that his friend has to deal with this hardheadedness every single day. "No, let him sleep for a bit longer. He'll wake soon enough and then we can start him on the antibiotics," Joly says tiredly as he leans against the doorframe of Combeferre's bedroom and gives Enjolras a stern look. "I'd rather have you come into the kitchen and eat the breakfast I made you an hour ago."

Enjolras briefly glances up at Joly and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not hungry," he mumbles, once again reaching out to check Combeferre's temperature. "I'll eat something later, I promise. I almost never eat breakfast."

 _Unbelievable_ , Joly thinks annoyed. But he doesn't say more about it and instead walks back into the kitchen, grabs the plate of crackers and shoves it in Enjolras' hands. "Eat," he orders firmly; keeping his voice down for the sake of Combeferre. He stares defiantly at his younger blond friend and doesn't look away until Enjolras rolls his eyes and takes a small bite of a cracker. "There, that wasn't too hard, now was it?" Joly teases as he bends over to check up on Combeferre himself. He indeed feels a little warmer than Joly is comfortable with; he really doesn't want to repeat what they had to do last night.

"Maybe we should wake him up," Joly muses more to himself than to Enjolras, "I don't really want him to take the antibiotics on an empty stomach, so he needs to eat something first and I think it wouldn't hurt to give him another two Tylenol; it's been almost six hours since the last dose we gave him…" Without waiting for Enjolras to respond, Joly gently shakes Combeferre's shoulder to wake him up. It takes some time, but when Combeferre is finally awake he seems a little more alert than he waslast night, despite his rising fever.

"What?" Combeferre mouths weakly; his throat too sore to speak the words out loud. He really wishes Joly hadn't waked him up, because he feels like a truck ran over him. Everything hurts; his head is fuzzy and he feels exhausted. As if he hasn't slept in days.

"Sorry to wake you up, my friend, but it's time for you to take some medicine and start banishing this infection from your body. You need to eat something first though and I know your throat hurts and that you're probably not hungry, but I don't want to give you these antibiotics on an empty stomach so…" Joly keeps his voice slow and steady so that Combeferre can follow every word that he says. "I'll go fetch you some yoghurt and Enjolras here will stay with you. Try to stay awake, okay?"

Combeferre nods tiredly – his eyes already seeking out his younger roommate – and tries to sit up straighter. As soon as Joly leaves the room, Enjolras sits down next to Combeferre on the bed and helps him to lift the pillow a little higher. His blond friend looks wrecked and Combeferre can't help but feel guilty for getting sick. He hates to see that look of anxiety on Enjolras' face; always has. He tries to smile at him and reaches out his arm. Enjolras immediately understands the gesture and closes his hand around Combeferre's.

"Hey," Combeferre whispers softly and Enjolras suddenly has difficulty to swallow the lump in his throat. He tries to smile back at his friend and squeezes his hand. "Hey…H-How are you feeling?"

"Not all that good…" Combeferre admits and he closes his eyes for a second. He wants to give Enjolras a different answer, but he doesn't want to lie to him. "But I'll be better soon, Enjolras…Those antibiotics work like magic, I promise."

Enjolras ducks his head and nods slowly, but Combeferre can tell by the look in his eyes that his friend isn't convinced. He really doesn't have the strength to keep talking though, so he settles for a soft squeeze of Enjolras' hand and another smile.

Joly returns to the bedroom with a small bowl of yoghurt and another glass of iced tea. He forces Combeferre to eat at least five spoonfuls of yoghurt before he allows him to swallow down the two antibiotic pills and the two Tylenol. "Okay, you can go back to sleep now," Joly says kindly as soon as the medicine are taken. "I have to go, because I have a shift at the clinic, but I'll try to come back in the evening to see you how the two of you are faring." He gives Combeferre a reassuring smile and pats him on the shoulder a few times. Combeferre is back asleep even before Joly has made his way out of the bedroom.

"Do you really have to go?" Enjolras asks nervously as he follows Joly into the living room and towards the front door. "What if his fever spikes again?"

"I don't think it will, Enjolras. Just make sure to give him the medicine in time and he should be fine. The antibiotics will start working right away, so I don't expect him to get any worse than he is now, though it might take a little while for him to start feeling better. Make sure he drinks and eats enough – that goes for you too by the way – and let him sleep for as much as he wants. The more he rests the better. I'll be back to check up on him tonight, but I'll give you a call this afternoon, okay?" Joly puts on his coat and scarf and gives Enjolras' shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Try not to worry too much, Enjolras, he will be fine."

And with that, he steps out of the apartment and closes the door behind him.

* * *

The following few days pass without much change. Joly visits Enjolras' and Combeferre's apartment at least once a day to check up on Combeferre and to force some food down Enjolras' throat. The medical student starts to worry more and more about Enjolras. The younger man seems to completely forget about his basic needs were it not for Joly to remind him of them. Apart from that, Joly is pretty sure that Enjolras hasn't slept properly ever since his best friend got sick, even though the blond denies that fact and claims that he sleeps enough.

But luckily, Combeferre is slowly but surely starting to get better. His glands are no longer swollen and he is clearly in less pain. The fever, however, is persistent and takes two more nights to break. When it finally does, the iron fist around Enjolras' chest starts to loosen up a little and he feels like he can breathe more freely. He is now sure that Combeferre is truly on the mend.

It is on the fourth morning that Combeferre finally wakes up and feels remarkably better. The pain is pretty much gone and he is no longer cold nor shaking. When he opens his eyes and blinks around the room, his eyes fall on Enjolras, who is huddled in a chair with a book and a blanket. His younger friend doesn't look good at all. He has dark smudges under his eyes; his hair is greasy and has lost its brilliance and he just looks a mess.

"Enjolras," he says quietly, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice.

Enjolras looks up from his book and gives him a tired smile. "Morning 'Ferre," he mutters, "how are you feeling?"

Combeferre narrows his eyes at his young friend and eyes him carefully. "I'm feeling much better…I guess the antibiotics have finally worked their magic. The pain is gone and I'm pretty sure I'm no longer sporting a fever, so that's good. How are you feeling, though? You've certainly looked better."

Enjolras scowls at him, but it doesn't have the desired effect when he has to suppress a yawn. "You're one to talk," he mumbles groggily, "You should look in the mirror before you judge my appearance. Your fever broke this night…finally…And I'm feeling fine, I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Combeferre hums and gives his friend a skeptical look. "Please tell me you have slept like a normal person these past few days?"

Enjolras blushes a little. "Of course I haven't slept like a normal person, 'Ferre! I needed to keep an eye on you. But I've dozed off often enough, so I'm fine." His friend just sighes, shakes his head and rolls his eyes before shifting over in the bed. He pulls the duvet away and beckons for Enjolras to come join him, which he does without complaint.

As soon as he lies down on the soft mattress and the blanket is tucked around him, Enjolras realizes how tired he actually is. He curls on his side and gazes up at Combeferre, who is now sitting up straight and carefully sips from a glass of water. He really, really wants to go to sleep, but he is afraid to. Because what if he falls asleep and the fever comes back? What if he falls asleep and Combeferre suddenly needs his help? Enjolras swallows thickly and forces his eyes to stay open.

"Enjolras, you can go to sleep," Combeferre says firmly without looking down at him, "I've had an infection, took the antibiotics and now I'm getting better. I just have to finish the treatment, but I no longer need you to look out for me, alright? I'm feeling perfectly fine, I promise. Please go to sleep."

Enjolras stays silent for a while, but still doesn't close his eyes. "You were really sick, you know," he says quietly, "Even Joly said so…we almost had to take you to the hospital, because your fever was spiking so high. Everyone was concerned, just check your phone. It's not just me. 'S not fair to judge me because I'm worried."

Now Combeferre does look at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm not judging you for anything, my dear friend. Of course I'm not judging you. I know things turned really bad there for a moment…I'm just saying that you don't need to be worried anymore. I'm okay now. But you look like death warmed up; you _need_ to sleep or else you'll get sick too." He offers Enjolras a kind smile and reaches out an arm to his young friend; a silent invite for Enjolras to lean in against him. Enjolras rolls over willingly and curls up in the space between his best friend's side and arm. He still doesn't close his eyes, although it's clear to Combeferre that Enjolras is having difficulty keeping them open.

"I just really don't like it when you're ill," Enjolras admits quietly as he lightly curls his fist in Combeferre's sleeping shirt. His words come out slower and his voice is heavy with sleep. Combeferre knows it'll be only a matter of seconds before his young friend is out. He carefully tightens his hold around Enjolras and starts drawing feather light circles up and down his upper arm and shoulder.

"I know you don't, mon petit ami," Combeferre murmurs gently, "I don't like it when you're ill either." Enjolras is quiet for a long time and Combeferre hopes he has finally fallen asleep, but then he shifts a little and mutters a few last words.

"I don't just 'not like it', I really hate it. I-I don't know if I can do this without you…or if I want to." And with that, Enjolras' breathing evens out and he's fast asleep. Combeferre wonders if his friend even realized what he had just said. He keeps a tight hold on the blond and stares into the distance. On some level, he feels very touched by the way Enjolras worries about him. How he is willing to drop all of his other work just to take care of Combeferre. But mostly, it frightens him, because if a simple throat infection already reduces Enjolras to this, what will a life threatening illness or a severe injury do to him? A shiver runs down Combeferre's spine and he suddenly doesn't feel so good anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this one. Reviews and criticism are always welcome and appreciated!


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